


What's in a Name?

by Hibisha



Series: RadioDust Week 2020 [3]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, RadioDust week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibisha/pseuds/Hibisha
Summary: ”That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”- William ShakespeareRadioDust Week Day 3: Angst
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: RadioDust Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751545
Comments: 8
Kudos: 100





	What's in a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, almost missed the deadline with this one but here we go. Have some tears!

_ ”What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” _

_ \- William Shakespeare _

Anthony had been called a lot of things all through out his life and then, his afterlife.

* * *

_**Prince**. _

* * *

His mother, holding him close and brushing his hair out of his eyes, softly combing it back with her fingers. He was a small child, no older than 5 but he could still vaguely remember the feeling on her fingers across his scalp and how secure they made him feel.

Her ‘little prince’ she used to call him, in the softest of voices, gentle and melodious.

He conquered dragons and he saved the princess.

He lived happily ever after.

He held strong faith in the fact that the safety of her embrace helped him sleep at night.

Until one cold September night, when he was barely nine, he had to force himself to sleep without.

* * *

**_ Disgrace. _ **

* * *

His father slapped him across the face, hatred etched onto his face. Somewhere he could hear Molly screaming at him, crying and begging their father to let him go - to let him live. His brother stood a little distance away, not looking at him, arms folded tightly. If one were to focus, they'd witness whitened knuckle as if he were holding himself back from doing something he would regret.

Anthony, on the edge of seventeen, stared at the ground, gritting his teeth, holding himself back from attacking the other. It was his fault after all - he had been caught playing hooky with the newspaper boy.

A body lay near his father’s feet.

* * *

_** Angel Cakes. ** _

* * *

He hated it the most.

Valentino’s hand ran down his sides making him flinch, his body aching and screaming in pain. But he wasn’t allowed to say it; wasn’t allowed to speak. Not yet, not now - maybe not ever. 

So he bit his tongue and smiled widely, hoping the drugs would kick in fast enough, numbing his to his surroundings. He needed another fix soon, his senses already coming back to him, Valentino’s revolting touch on his arms making him want to claw at his own skin till he bled.

The name stuck around for longer than his innocence.

* * *

_** Angel Dust. ** _

* * *

Slut.

Addict.

That’s who he was.

Angel Dust, the porn star. 

Hell’s finest whore.

_ Warm bodies then empty beds. _

He laughed his days away, higher than a kite on most nights.

Others, he tried to claw at his skin, wishing for it all to end - hating himself, hating what he had become. Falling to the pits of self hate at how he had become more property than person.

Hating what had become of his afterlife.

So he drank.

Drank enough to forget who he was with and what the alcohol couldn’t help with the drugs certainly did.

_ A shot of this, a shot of that. _

_ A shot of bliss. _

_ Up his arm or in a glass. _

He was happy.

Was he happy?

Anthony simply laughed, tears streaming down his face.

* * *

**_ Idiot._**

* * *

Anthony's favorite.

Said in the fondest of tones accompanied by a gentle sigh, fingers occasionally raking through his hair as his was felt all over, skilled hands looking for bruises - for any signs of pain.

He would melt into those hands if he could, simply content with being there, sitting next to the demon, head resting on his shoulder as he read.

“My dear, you really need to start taking better care of yourself otherwise I’m going to have to talk to Charlie about placing a ban on your outings.”

It wasn’t threatening - it wasn’t a restraint.

Sometimes the concern being to much to handle and he’d walk away, leaving behind a tilt of the head often accompanied by a confused stare.

Anthony didn't know how to love.

But he always came back.

A smile that didn’t make him want to run away although  smarter demons would have told him to.

But Anthony had been called a lot of things in his life.

Smart just wasn’t one of them.


End file.
